


I'll Use You As A Focal Point

by MissMegh



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Lots of Angst, M/M, blast trauma, death???? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 20:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8637289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMegh/pseuds/MissMegh
Summary: Hux has no plan, no resources, nothing. Just Kylo. They run.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [caityjay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caityjay/gifts).



> [Caityjay](http://caityjay13.tumblr.com/) gave me a few prompts for a Hux angst list, and #18 was _Forcefully pulled away from Kylo’s arms._ So, y'know. This is partly her fault.
> 
> For extra hurt go listen to [I Found](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yj6V_a1-EUA) by Amber Run.

It was only really ever a question of who would find them first. Hux had known that from the start.

The Order was limping along on scarce troops and scarcer resources; it had never really recovered from the death of Starkiller. Nevertheless, it was still dangerous, and it had a long memory. Hux had failed it—first with the attack on Starkiller Base, then through that disastrous aborted coup. It has all gone wrong, Snoke had survived, and he had other, more loyal generals with whom to hunt Hux down.

By contrast, the Resistance had only gained ground in the war for the Republic’s remains, with General Organa free to let loose her pack of baying hounds and scour the galaxy for her missing prodigal. Ren was convinced that she meant to execute him for the death of Han Solo, which was certainly a possibility, but Hux privately thought that it was just the damnable snare of Kylo Ren. There was no way to keep from chasing after him, for one reason or another, once he’d bulled his way into your life.  
Ren wasn’t much of a challenge right now. He’d been curled up in the pilot’s seat since the blasted ship had failed on them and forced their landing on this godforsaken rock.

Nothing Hux could do to the engines—patching, jumpstarting, swearing—was in any way effective. This was starting to become a theme in his life, he thought, the grotesque humor of it almost getting a rictus grin out of him. There was nothing he could do that would make this right, no place he could run that would be safe. Hell, he’d be reduced to relying on a manic-depressive Force wielder for food once the rations ran out. It was maddening.

Then again, he supposed no one had ever accused him of sanity. It seemed so obvious, now. How else could he have thought that stealing Snoke’s precious protégé and trying to force a coup was anything less than madness?

“You didn’t steal me.” Ren’s muffled voice sounded as hoarse as if he still wore his mask. It was the first time he’d spoken in… oh, hours, maybe since yesterday. “It was always going to happen. I was always going to ruin it.”

“I hate it when you do that.” It was a tired argument, and only true half the time—he had a brain-to-mouth filter for a _reason,_ but oh when the words wouldn’t come it was such a _relief_ —but Hux seized on the frustration of Ren’s intrusion with both hands. It was better than the alternative. “Perhaps you could do something more useful with that wizardry of yours. Find us another ship, say, or at least some place less obvious to lay low. Literally anything except reading my kriffing mind and predicting our imminent demise would be helpful.” His voice cracked at the end of that last sentence, which infuriated him even more.

“I said it’s ruined,” Ren pointed out helpfully. “You’re the one who jumped to death. You’re right, though.”

“Oh _fuck_ you!” Ren flinched at the way Hux sat up and snarled at him, but the wounded look on his face evoked no pity. “I am _not_ going to, to just throw my hands up and give in on your say-so! I have not _burned_ every advantage I ever had to the _ground_ only for you to tell me it’s all been useless, do you understand me?!”

“Hux—”

“I will not,” Hux raised his voice to override Ren’s attempt to speak, _"not_ sit here and wallow and _wait._ Even if everything is blasted to hell after all I’ve done, it’s done and I’ve done it and I’ll _keep_ doing it until I’m bloody well spaced!”

 _"Hux,"_ and it was Ren’s turn for his voice to break, gone tight and miserable like a dying animal’s. “It’s over. There isn’t anything left. What’s the point?”

Hux’s throat clenched so tightly that for one hysterical second he thought Ren had Force-choked him, but it was only fury, his own helpless, flaring rage. Ren wasn’t paying enough attention, too lost in his own bleak monologue. “You had everything. It would have been flawless. I’ve seen you. There was nothing left undone. It was all ready. And I—you didn’t—” Ren closed his eyes. “You should have killed me first. That was your mistake.”

“Shut up,” Hux hissed, fists closed so tight he could feel the scars on his palms straining. “You idiot. You laser-brained imbecile. You—” He had to force himself to take a breath, to uncurl his hands, sticky and shaking. “It would _not_ have been flawless,” he gritted, “because I planned on you being there to see it. I wanted to see your stupid face when the galaxy was at our feet with nothing left to stop us. And all that is gone now, all in kriffing ruins, but I am _not_ going to lie down and die because _hell_ if I’ll give up the one thing I managed to keep through this whole mess!”

Ren’s eyes were open, large and painful and still not looking at him. “Your hands—”

“Fucking _stars,_ Ren, do you hear me?” Hux half threw himself across the cockpit and fisted his hands in Ren’s bedraggled hair. It left a smear of coppery red on Ren’s pale skin, and perhaps Hux had been digging his fingers into his palms harder than he thought, but he really could not give a damn right now. “Everything is gone but you. I _kept_ you. I will continue to keep you until they pry you out of my cold, dead hands.”

Ren shuddered, maybe from horror, but when his hands came up to curl and stroke against Hux’s face Hux found that he didn’t care. Ren was looking at him, and there was shivering, feverish light in those dark eyes.

“You threw it all away,” Ren said, soft and lost. “I saw it. If I hadn’t been there—you. You threw it away for me. Why?”

“I hardly meant everything to go to shit, Ren,” Hux replied, not able to summon nearly enough acid into his tone with Ren’s fingers sliding softly over his cheekbone. “The idea was to rule the galaxy, if you recall.”

“If you had let me die,” Ren insisted, gripping a little harder, not letting Hux back away. “If you hadn’t come for me. It would have worked. You know that.”

Caught in Kylo Ren’s arms, Hux just looked at him, at the question in his eyes. It wasn’t voiced, though, wasn’t free in the air to wreak havoc, so Hux didn’t say anything. The words wouldn’t come.

Kylo made a wretched animal sound in the back of his throat and kissed Hux, hard and trembling. Hux didn’t have the strength to resist it, to even pretend he didn’t want it; he never had, not with Kylo. He wanted to bite down, to be savage, to keep snarling against the cruel indifference of the universe, but Kylo’s lips were soft and warm and the most Hux could do was nip tenderly at the curve of them, as if he were plucking at Kylo’s sleeve for attention. Kylo gave it willingly, wrapping Hux up so tightly that he felt he had no edges, and that was all he wanted. For just a little while, Hux forgot everything he’d lost and sighed into the safety and warmth in Ren’s arms.

“We’ll get somewhere,” he whispered against Kylo’s mouth when they let themselves slip apart enough for words. “Somewhere out of their reach. We can disappear. You can—hell, turn us invisible or something. We’ll pretend we’re ghosts.”

“That’s not how the Force works,” Kylo mumbled, and Hux laughed for the first time in weeks, sharp and giddy, drunk on Kylo’s lips and everything that came from them. He kissed the indignant pout that formed as a result, unable to stop himself. Kylo always did this to him, to his self-control; he’d tried fighting it and ignoring it, and now there was nothing to do but plunge into it headfirst. The feel of it made him light-headed, and he curled tighter around Kylo to stay anchored. _You, it's you, it's always been you._

“I love you,” Kylo blurted, and Hux could feel it ringing in his ears and his head at the same time, starbursts in his vision at the force of it. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, could only stare into Kylo’s wide, pleading eyes with soft awe, words rippling through him like a tuning note.

It felt so good that the oncoming whine in the air outside grated hard enough against his senses to make him jerk.

“Hux?”

 _"Down,"_ was all he managed, and Kylo clutched him close, pivoted in the seat—

The blast hit the nose of the ship and everything folded in on itself in fire and agony.

  


Footsteps forced him awake while broken ribs and the sluggish drip of blood against his face tried to pull him back under. He didn’t know how long he’d been out. Everything was dark and heavy and pain.

_Kylo. Where's Kylo?_

“Ren,” he croaked, and now he could feel someone pressed against him, warm muscle pinning him in place, but there was no response. Something was pulling wreckage from above him, and the harsh light outlined tangled hair and a livid scar, freshly bruised and bloodied, too near to see much else. Ren’s eyes were closed.

“Ren, get up,” he tried to say, but there was smoke in his nose and his face felt barbecued and his throat was too raw to make that many sounds. _Ren, they’re coming. Ren, they’ll kill us. Ren, get up, please get up._

Metal creaked, and a droid hauled away the last twisted shard of cockpit shielding them from view. “Visual scan,” it reported, its voice implacably toneless. “Hux, Armitage. Facial recognition 97%.”

“Get him up.”

Hux coughed, fire in his chest, his legs refusing to obey him, his arms curled immovably around Kylo’s still form. The droid stepped back and two stormtroopers moved in, one with a blaster trained on Hux’s head and the other seizing him by the collar to pull him out.

“No,” he muttered, trying to tighten his hold but it wasn’t working and Kylo was so, so still. “No” and “Ren” and all the unvoiced things he wanted to scream. They couldn’t take him. Not now.

The stormtrooper’s grip was merciless. Hux felt his arms slipping free.

_No no no no no no_

They had to push Kylo aside to get Hux loose, prying them apart with no apparent awareness of Hux’s futile gasps and clenching hands. Kylo didn’t move once. _Wake up,_ Hux wanted to scream. _Wake up, get up, this can’t happen, I can’t lose you._

“Visual scan,” the droid repeated when they had dragged Hux to the ground, binders on his wrists and blood in his eyes. “Kylo Ren. Facial recognition 92%.”

“Get him out and ship him to the Supreme Leader.”

“Life signs minimal, Captain.”

“Then do it _quickly."_

“Ren,” Hux said thickly, his eyes swimming, tears dripping through the blood smears. They were hauling Kylo up and he wasn’t moving, he wasn’t _moving._

“Put him on board,” the Captain said, and hands pulled him up, frogmarching him when his legs buckled. He hurled himself suddenly backward, twisting, desperate, ignoring their curses.

“Ren,” he called, voice cracking. “Ren, get up! Ren!”

“Get him out of here.”

“Ren!” Hux bucked in their grip. Kylo was lolling between his captors and Hux couldn’t see his face and he _could not lose him._ "Ren! Kylo! _Kylo!"_

Kylo didn’t move. Hux screamed for the last piece of himself until well after he was gone.


End file.
